


Every Night I Feel It

by zouisweak



Series: Zouis Week [6]
Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: (plz dont get yr hopes up), M/M, References to recreational drug use, disrespectful and frankly insulting use of italics and flashbacks
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-18
Updated: 2015-09-18
Packaged: 2018-04-21 07:17:17
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,408
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4820213
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zouisweak/pseuds/zouisweak
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Zouis week, day 6/7: confession- or, the first time Louis listens to I Won't Mind.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Every Night I Feel It

**Author's Note:**

> I didn't even write this for zouis week which is why it's much longer than any of the others, which i wrote in the day they were posted oops, but yeah.  
> also it could super easily apply to tomorrows prompt (song lyrics) but like...i didn't really have anything else that fitted into the confession prompt and i do have some headcanon's for tomorrow so ha
> 
> title taken from right now, the most zouis song of all (.........not including I Won't Mind)
> 
> also!! you don't really need to read any of the works in this series to understand one on it's own, but they do take place in the same universe so like it'd provide a certain context i guess? but again not a necessary one.

**Intro**

_It’s Halloween._

_It’s Halloween, and that’s Louis’ favourite holiday. He doesn’t like Christmas because it takes attention from his birthday, he doesn’t like Easter because it reminds him of having to get up really early to hide the eggs for his sisters when he was 14 and definitely had better things to do. He hates the weird American holidays, too, like Labour Day or the one with the fireworks, because he spends enough time in the states as it is and he doesn’t want people forgetting that he’s British, and he knows how much his friends at home would mock him if he actually took part._

_So he really, really loves Halloween, only this time he wishes he didn’t, because this time it means people are instantly suspicious when he doesn’t go to the party, despite his wonderful excuses._

_(“I don’t have a costume, Niall,” Louis said, over pronouncing it, ni-yull, in the way that annoys him, “I can’t very well show up without a costume, can I? Height of bad manners, that.”_

_“You never have a costume! You always bullshit it. That time you and Zayn went as the kiss guys you were literally wearing your pyjama top!”_

_Louis raised his eyebrow, and saw Niall visibly going through the stages of realising what he’d said, landing on regret. The only good thing about the boys slipping up and mentioning Zayn around him, is that he’s immediately able to make them feel guilty as hell and drop the conversation straight away.)_

_And even if it wasn’t Halloween, well, it’s still a bit strange for him to be in his hotel room already, minibar ransacked because he’s having a one man party. It’s the night after their last show, and it’s- it’s fucking weird, the way people are going around acting like there’s not a piece missing, like it’s okay to be having  a celebration._

_And the worst part is that, deep down, he knows it is okay. They did all this without him. They finished the tour without him. They made an album without him. They can celebrate without him._

_Louis can’t though._

_He doesn’t know why, but it’s that night that he finds himself scrolling through his message history with Liam, after making a big enough dent in the minibar supply. He finds the audio soundtrack soon enough, even though it’s from months ago. It comes with the message- “sik song, haha. You should listen, if you want, you’d be proud. I want to do a remix, haha.”_

_It’s the biggest compliment Liam gives to music he likes, so Louis has no doubt that he would be proud. That’s not what’s been stopping him from listening. Until now._

_He doesn’t know if it’s bravery or weakness that makes him press play._

**Don't look around 'cause love is blind, and darling right now, I can't see you.**

_His voice is- Louis’ hands shake. He doesn’t know if it’s for effect, the way the audio’s been toned down, or if it’s just the quality of the leak, but Louis thinks Zayn could sing to him through a tin can on a string, and he’d still have never heard anything quite as beautiful. The words, too, fill his heart with choppy waters. He doesn’t- he tries not to relate to it, but it’s._

_He thinks about the only time him and Zayn have talked, since Zayn had really left for good, the only time he’s heard his voice. Louis had- they’re both so stubborn, is the thing, and Louis had been holding out for Zayn to make the first step, even though he knew Zayn was doing the same thing._

He shouldn’t have been as bitter as he was. He knew it was going to happen, he'd given Zayn his blessing. Shit, Zayn had taken him to LA, that one night they had off in their first leg of the tour, to see management about the arrangements, he had always wanted Louis’ input in the decision- he’d fucking asked Louis to leave with him, but it just- Louis didn’t realise just how difficult it would be. He didn’t realise that he’d have just lost Eleanor, too. He didn’t realise the two times Zayn did try to call him his phone would be off, for some pointless meeting he didn’t even care about.

Initially, if he was honest, he had been envious in a way, that Zayn was willing to take such a risk, but now he was just so fucking angry. He didn’t understand why he never- he never even asked Louis, after he left, never even wondered how he’d be. It didn’t even occur to him to check up on Louis, even though Louis had literally just fucking broken up with Eleanor, was already dealing with his own mess, and in desperate need of the comfort only Zayn had ever been able to offer.

So he got drunk, because he was a coward, and he went out, because he was a coward, and he told some pretty unsuspecting girl that she could call Zayn off his phone, because he was the kind of coward who couldn’t even dial a fucking number. She did it giggling, as her more sober friend looked on, and he wondered what she thought. She didn’t seem very impressed and he couldn’t work out if she suspected he was just selling out his famous friend for a chance of a fuck, or if she realised how much deeper it ran.

“He answered,” the girl giggled, and Louis smiled back, before taking the phone and walking to the nearby smokers area. He could've laughed thinking about how confused that girl must be, he could've, but- well. Zayn was the closest he’s been in a long while, so.

“Lou,” he breathed, and he sounded so relieved, but Louis forced himself to acknowledge that that was just wishful thinking, because it wasn't like Zayn was waiting around for him, no, he’d got all these Plans now, capital fucking p, and none of them involved Louis, not anymore. “How’re you?”

Louis snorted. “I’ll give you three fucking guesses.”

Zayn sighed, but didn't sound too surprised. “So it’s that kind of phone call.”

“It’s no kind of phone call. It’s the first phone call, we don’t have kinds. We have nothing, because it’s the _first fucking phone call._ ”

“Please don’t blame me for that,” Zayn said, quietly, after a pause.

“I’m not blaming- I’m not. Zayn. Zayn. What am I supposed to do?” It sounded awfully close to _who am I supposed to be?_ It sounded awfully close to desperation, too, but that wasn't a surprise. That was something Louis had come to terms with a while ago. 

“I don’t know. Trust me?”

"Trust you about what, though, Zayn-"

"About us." 

Louis allowed himself a smile, just for a second, even though the anger was still there. Zayn'd always been so _sure._ “Trust you that we’re still fine?”

“We are fine, Lou, if you want us to be. I love you. I still love you.”

“You’re on the other side of the fucking word! We never even fucking talk! We haven’t even seen each other! I don’t- I can’t remember what your hands look like.” It sounded pathetic, even to his own ears, but it was something he’d been thinking about earlier. This was their first phone call.

“I know, I know, but I love you, and we’ll get through this- we’re just busy right now, right?” and Zayn was usually so composed, so reassuring, but Louis could hear the desperation seep through, matching Louis' own. In a sick way, it made him feel like they were equals, and he hadn't felt that way in a while. “It’ll get better, it’s going to get better, Louis, I promise.”

“You’re fucking _lying,_ ” Louis bit out. He hung up. It was the last phone call.

**I'm feeling proud so without a doubt, I can feel you.**

_By the time he’s escaped that memory, the song has played through. Only two minutes, like even with his own lyrics, he's keeping some of himself private. He always knew Zayn was going to be fucking amazing, but the pride breaks his heart when he presses replay, determined to listen, objectively, not get wrapped up in himself, and then he hears the second line. He thinks fate, or some god, or maybe Zayn himself must be laughing at him, ‘cause the words punch through Louis, unrelentingly. And he- that can’t be a coincidence can it? He frowns._

“Shit, Lou,” his voice was rough and punctuated by coughs, and Louis teased him for it, _how you gonna riff like that Zayn_ , but it added a grit to his smooth tones in a not wholly unpleasant way and Louis had always been in awe of his best friend, but being able to pull off the _flu_  was just pushing it. “I just hate that I have to miss it, like, not just cuz I wanna go but like- I know it’s a big deal to you.”

“Zayn, you’re literally bed-bound,” Louis rolled his eyes in the back of the car to pick up Eleanor, suit stifling and hair gel scratching his scalp, “I don’t want you coming to just infect the guests at my mum’s wedding. What kind of gift would that be?”

Zayn snorted, or tried to. Even through the phone Louis could tell it didn’t sound the way it was supposed to. He was actually kind of worried. Zayn’s health hadn’t been too good recently, and he hadn’t been taking off as much time as he should be. Louis was working on convincing him, though. “I know, but I just- I wish I could support you, you know babes?”

Louis laughed, despite the constricting collar and nerves, and he knew that there was no one else who could get him to laugh right then but Zayn. And yeah, maybe he did need this call, despite his dismissive attitude, maybe he was a bit upset that Zayn wasn’t there. “It’s not _my_ wedding day, you do realise that?”

Zayn laughed too, and that was always how it was with them, a rush of laughter, one after the other, the other after one.  “As if you’d let me miss your actual wedding.”

“As if you’d let yourself miss it, Malik, I know you’re a sap.”

“True,” Zayn said, voice gone so soft Louis knew he was just about to say something unbearably earnest. “I’d probably walk you down the aisle.”

Louis smiled and hoped Zayn could tell. He probably could. Louis was just about to make a joke about Zayn “giving him away,” but the phrase had his thoughts stopping.

Because- Louis had been thinking about the future, see? About what he wanted with Eleanor, the maid of honour at his mother’s wedding, about what he’d do with himself after One Direction breaks up. About the fact that Zayn was engaged.

And suddenly, he wasn't as willing to brush aside Zayn’s apologies. He wanted Zayn to know he got it, got what he was trying to say. “Listen, I know you support me, even if it is just for me mum’s wedding, I know you do. And I don’t need you with me to have your support, right?”

“No,” Zayn said, obviously surprised by the turn in conversation, just as he always was when Louis let them get sentimental, “no of course not, flu or not, I’m happy for you, so happy.”

“And back at you, Z,” Louis said, thoughts of the future flitting in his mind. God, he hoped he didn’t have to go without Zayn, not for a long while at least, not when every single thing he felt proud of- awards, performances, being able to do things for his family, charity work- he related back to Zayn, in some way or another. Not when he knew Zayn felt the same way.

And they couldn’t stay living this pop dream forever, he got that. He just hoped that Zayn realised that even if they do go their own way, Louis would always be so fucking proud of him. He always was. “Like, even if- when I’m not around, you still know, right, that like. That I support you. 100 percent. That I honestly couldn’t be prouder. Any time you do something you’re proud of, know that- that I’m proud too.”

It was something he felt Zayn must have known, must have gathered by the way Louis printed out all the good reviews of his performances and stuck them under his pillow, the way he mouthed at fans and pointed at Zayn in awe when he hit those high notes, the way it was always Zayn’s jacket he fisted his hand in when they were on stage, accepting an award. He hoped that Zayn had come to associate pride with Louis, the same way Louis associated it with him.

Zayn gave a laugh, but it was more awkward this time. “Sounds like you’re breaking up with me.”

Louis forced one in response. “No, not- I just mean. That flu could be contagious. I could end up missing out on _your_ wedding.”

And it was weirdly not a joke because Zayn actually will be having a wedding, something Louis had to remind himself of more than he should've. “You wouldn’t-“

“But if I did,” Louis said, and he didn’t know why he was being so adamant about it.

“If you did, I still know you’d be happy for me. I don’t need to see you to know that.”

**Cause we are who we are, when no one's watching.**

_And now it’s just getting ridiculous, honestly, because- they’re both literally the most private pair there is, and did Zayn really think he could get away with this? He thinks of all the many, many times they’ve been accused of it, holding back, Zayn’s image as the mysterious one and Louis’ as the bitchy one and it’s just- ridiculous._

They were laying on their bunk in the bus (Zayn’s bunk, really, but they’d set up a what’s-mine-is-yours policy about a week into their friendship)- looking at the glow in the dark stars that weren’t nearly as effective if the ceiling was half a meter above you, when Zayn said he needed a shower. Louis did a big show of smelling him, saying he smelled amazing, to try and get him to stay, but Zayn just brushed him off, laughing.

Louis knew he was going to be gone a while, because it was Zayn, and Zayn took his upkeep very seriously, so he took out his phone, scrolled down through his twitter mentions. It was something he rarely did, anymore. He wasn't- he wasn't quite as weak about criticism, by then, but it got a bit tiring having the same accusations thrown at him again and again. 

He replied to a few, the nice ones and the ones with the funniest twitter handles because he knew that made Zayn laugh even if they’d never talked about it, and then he saw one-

_Thinking back on it, Louis can’t even remember what it said, something pointless and clearly for no purpose other than to get a reaction of him. And he can’t work out why it worked, either, because by then his skin had grown thicker and his confidence less shaky. At the time, though-_

He knew he wouldn’t reply, because he never did, because that was giving them what they wanted, and anyway it was petty, he was an adult, he shouldn’t have given a fuck.

But he did, and his hands were shaking with it as he lifted them to his lips to bite at his nails. Irrationally, embarrassingly, he felt tears prick at the back of his eye, but he was too stubborn to let them get any further, especially when he heard the bathroom door click open, which, shit. He hadn’t even noticed the shower turning off.

Zayn comes out in a jersey and thread-thin sweats, his small smile twisting into a concerned frown with just one look at Louis.

“Babes,” he said, voice dripping with worry, even as his hair did with water. It was one of the few things that could've gotten him to deviate from his hair routine, a sad Louis.

A pissed off, frustrated Louis, more accurately, in that case. He just kind of shoved the phone in Zayn’s face, but he didn’t need to explain any further because the screen was still lit up with the tweet, one fan replying to the other and neither being particularly polite, and-

“Fucking assholes,” Zayn said- growled, Louis would’ve described it, if it wasn’t Zayn. “You know it’s not true, right? Anything people say, anyone talking shit- it’s not. They don’t know you, they don’t know anything about you, and that’s their fucking loss yeah? It’s their loss, not getting to see you the way you are, and they don’t deserve it either, okay, fuck them, knowing you, it’s- it’s a fucking privilege, Lou, don’t listen to them, they don’t know anything.”

It's what he always said. It's what he always _had_ said, and he said it just as much about himself as he did about Louis.

And Louis believed it. His doubts disintegrated. Him and Zayn, they were stronger than that bullshit. No one knew them, no one had the right to fucking know them. All they needed was each other.

Because that was how the saying went, right? When the going gets tough, the tough get ridiculously co-dependent.

 **And right from the start, you know I got you**.

_And Louis can’t help but laugh at that lyric, because, yeah, of fucking course he knew that. Of course he knew that, everyone knew that, he never shut up about how much he trusted Zayn, and Zayn was just as bad. He remembers that one video diary, the one the fans latched onto, when Zayn had said all soft and genuine “I’d always save you Louis,” and how overwhelmed it had made Louis feel, the breath knocked out of him, how he hadn’t really known what to do with himself, not with the camera running. It was years ago, but it had stayed true for years. Zayn had always made him feel safe._

Louis was embarrassed. Which was why he was hiding under the stairs. It wasn't ideal, because the possibility of being discovered hiding under the stairs would just increase that embarrassment, but it was a risk he was willing to take.

Liam was practicing, was the thing, and it was like. Louis didn’t get why, they’d already done rehearsals, and okay, it was a big solo, but when did Liam _not_ have a big solo, and see there, right there, that was when the bitterness started leaking into Louis’ argument. He just- he mightn’t have had as strong as a voice as Liam or Zayn, or even Harry, but that didn’t mean he was _weak_. He got to boot camp off his own back, didn’t he? But- it was the final, next week, and he still hadn’t been given a solo, and he felt stupid to keep expecting it but when he was essentially given the role of backing singer, again, it was- well. Annoying. And he thought he hid it pretty well, didn’t react much, up front, but it was still. Annoying.

He knew Liam wasn’t doing it to show off, even though showing off was something he was prone to do, but it still felt like it was being rubbed in Louis’ face. So he left. He hadn’t been talking to anyone, so it wasn't like he stormed out, but usually if one of them was to leave the room they’d give an explanation, so he knew Niall and Harry were looking at him a bit weird when he did leave.

It was Zayn, of course, who had found him in the end, and Louis was grateful for small blessings. Zayn was the only person he could talk to about this. Harry was too sweet and optimistic to be negative around, and Niall was essentially in the same boat as Louis so he’d've felt a bit rude complaining about it to him, and Liam was too pro-active for his own good, always wanted to solve problems, would tell Louis about all these outlandish vocal exercises he found online and encourage him to talk to the _higher ups_ , as he still called them, even though the rest of the boys were on a first name basis with their “bosses” by this stage.

So he was glad it was Zayn. Zayn was the only one who knew how to deal with Louis, properly.

Right now, Zayn was staring down at him, half amused, half concerned. Louis ripped his gaze away from his friend, refocusing it on the slanted ceiling.

“It just- it fucking sucks-“ and he had to stop speaking because his voice wasn’t that steady and he didn’t realise just how upset about it he was until then.

“I know,” Zayn said, simply, and then he sat beside Louis. He didn’t say anything else. Not even when his shirt got wet from Louis’ tears.

**We messed around until we found, the one thing we said we could never ever live without.**

_Louis just- that lyric's kind of ridiculously transparent. He blushes, remembering that Liam has heard this song. He wonders if it was a bit of a joke, sending it on to him. He wonders if Liam picked up on the same things he’s picking up on now. It’s not just him, right? He’s not just projecting. It wouldn’t make sense for it to be about- He’s the only person-_

It’s like this. They fucked around, right?

Usually, when they were drunk, or high- not because they’d only do it under the influence, but because it gave them an excuse to brush it off come morning.

Sometimes they did it sober, couldn’t help it, maybe one of them had been teasing all day, maybe one of them was just horny, maybe one of them just needed an escape from the bullshit only the other can provide, but usually, they kept it to nights out. They kept it light.

It wasn’t serious, is the thing. 

They were both in relationships. And he’s not an asshole, Eleanor knew, so did Perrie. They all had conversations (not together, because that’d be weird, and louis and Zayn might have been ridiculously wrapped up in each other but not to the point that they bring each other along to relationship talks), before the start of the third tour, when neither of the better halves would be joining anytime soon, and they agreed that if the need struck, the boys could wet their dicks. It was the same for the girls, too, obviously, and Louis was surprised by how little he minded the idea of Eleanor finding someone else, as long as it was just for a night. He got her a vibe as a going away present, more as a joke than anything else, but he genuinely wouldn’t be annoyed if she used something else instead, so to speak. They hadn’t talked about it, but he thinks Zayn feels much the same way about Perrie.  

It wasn’t serious, but it still seemed a bit- covert. Not just because they were in the biggest boyband in the world, but because…

Eleanor knew he was occasionally fucking other people, she just didn’t realise Zayn fell under that bracket. She didn’t realise Zayn was the _only_ person who fell under that bracket. She didn’t know that the word “occasionally” was steadily becoming less and less accurate, and that the word “regularly” was beginning to take its place. And he couldn’t help but suspect that Perrie would be equally surprised to find out what was really happening on bus one.

And they didn’t talk about why they never told anyone, but it just. It was theirs.

It was theirs until it wasn’t. It was theirs until Niall, Harry, and Liam walked in on Louis blowing him during what, ostensibly, should have been a recording session. And hey, Louis definitely thought the noises Zayn was making were worth getting on an album, he just didn’t feel like management would agree.   

Niall didn’t seem that surprised- Louis has always wondered just how much Niall knows about the people around him that he doesn’t let on- but Liam went redder than louis’ ever seen him. Louis calmed him down, assured him that it wasn’t cheating but made him promise not to tell anyone anyway, _and yes, Li, that includes Sophia_.

It wasn’t until he and Niall left, with Harry a second after them, having given Zayn a long meaningful look that Louis wasn’t ready to analyse, that Louis realised he was the only one who had done the talking, that Zayn hadn’t done much of anything, really, beyond tucking himself back in. Which was totally unfair, because Louis was the one who was hoarse from cock-sucking, and he saw the way Niall was stopping himself from laughing at his voice. 

“Z?” Louis asked. “Y’alright?”

“We shouldn’t do this,” Zayn said, and it sounded like it was dragged out of him.

“What? My blowjobs not up to your standard?” He tried for a joke, because the idea of this ending was a lot more daunting than it had any right to be.

“Just. You said yourself, to Liam, this is- this is just casual, this is just messing around but I don’t know-” he sighed, looked at Louis, smiled small. _Listening to the lyrics, Louis can still see that smile so clearly_. “I don’t know if I can do that with you. You mean so much to me, you’re my- my, fuck, best friend sounds so inconsequential, dunnit? But you’re more than whatever this is. And it’s just, it’s dangerous.”

It sounded like an apology, and Louis supposed he needed one. He- he didn’t want this called out, didn’t want them to voice the doubts he had always known they both had. He got where Zayn was coming from. Hell, he’d been thinking it since the first time they’d taken it further than kissing. He knew they didn’t fit into the “friends with benefits” category, and definitely not the “casual fuck” one. Whatever they had, and Louis had just as much trouble defining it as Zayn did, was bigger than either of them was ready to admit, so maybe it was best if they put a stop to it before someone got hurt. But Louis knew, immediately, that they’d gone on too long already to avoid that, and he was- he was a bit hurt.

They go out on stage that night, and Louis was still a bit bitter, until-

_“If there was one thing you couldn’t live without, Zayn, what would it be?”_

_“You.”_

**I'm not allowed to talk about it, but I gotta tell you.**

“I like guys,” he said, quietly, staring at the way the water of the pool plays against his bare legs, occasionally knocking into Louis’.

“What?” Louis whispered and he thought he should be surprised, because he was eighteen from a small town and he’d never had a _gay_ friend before, but he wasn't. He remembered earlier that evening, back in Harry’s bungalow, playing truth or dare and Niall asking a question about which of them would get the most girls if they were successful. Zayn had shifted, uncomfortable, and it was something Louis had noticed during boot camp, before he knew the rest of the boys, this unease when it came to talking about romance, and Louis hadn’t really known how to comfort Zayn yet- he hoped they’d make it far enough to give him the time to learn- so instead he deflected attention.

“Maybe one of us doesn’t like girls,” he had said, faux-indignant because they were teenage boys and as far as he was concerned of _course_ they liked girls. Liam had laughed at that, and one of Louis’ favourite new hobbies was pretending he was serious after making a joke if Liam laughed at it.

“What? There’s always one,” he said, “the boyband curse.”

Looking back maybe definitely curse was the wrong word choice, but the guys had laughed again, and they moved on, while out of the corner of his eye Louis watched Zayn, always, an occurrence common enough he was already beginning to see it as habit. Zayn didn’t seem as pleased by his antics as he usually did, as eager to play along. Zayn shifted, again, eyes darting to the arm Harry had wrapped around Louis’ neck, before refocusing on the floor, just as uncomfortable as he had been when Niall had asked that stupid question.

So Louis didn’t feel surprised that Zayn was- bi, he was corrected, not gay. The surprise would come later, and not at Zayn’s sexuality, but the fact that he’d shared it with Louis. 

It just wasn’t something they talked about, any of them, and only in part because of the strange section of their contracts none of them had understood at the time, about personal relationships. It would just hurt more if they admitted that yeah, okay, maybe they actually aren’t attracted to every single blond interviewer they meet. Louis didn’t know about Liam and he had literally no idea what to make of Niall, but Harry was definitely someone he had suspicions about, just as Harry probably had suspicions about him, and Zayn, too, but that- they didn’t say it. It caused more trouble than it was worth.

But he didn't know that then, and Zayn opening up to him like that, only him, made him feel...special. He was a private person, but all that meant was that Louis felt proud, slightly possessive, of having Zayn’s secrets, even back then, and sure, they'd known each other since early days of boot camp, before they'd met the rest of the boys, but still- Zayn chose _Louis._

It set a trend, of Zayn opening up to him. And it was unfair, because Zayn was always the first to open up, before Louis would. Louis didn’t even realise he wasn’t exactly straight, anyway, for another year, and it took months before he would tell Zayn. He just- let Zayn be the first one to share. Part of it was just Louis testing him, seeing how far he’d be willing to take a risk on Louis, but a lot of it was the fear that beautiful talented charming Zayn would find someone else. That Louis would tell him one of his own secrets, and Zayn’s response wouldn’t be “me too.”

Zayn was the first to say I love you. He was the first to call Louis his best friend, first to kiss him (and yes, that counts as a secret), first to suggest taking it further, even if, initially, Louis had turned him down. He was the first to break all those taboos, and later, towards the end, he was the first to say, “I think you’re the only thing that makes it worth it.”

He had trusted Louis in a way that no one ever had before, not really, always the one to point out in interviews that Louis was good for more than a laugh- “he’s a really good listener, too,” he’d say, must’ve mastered a thousand different ways to phrase it, in their time- always the one to come to Louis with problems.

_So. Zayn tells him secrets, and it’s time for Louis to reciprocate. It’s time for him to take the risk he’s always known he would. Eventually._

**I won't mind, even though I know you'll never be mine.**

Picking up the phone, dialling that number, it’s easy. Maybe partly because of the liquid courage, Louis will concede, but also because- all of the doubt he’s been feeling for the past half a year is just- gone. Just gone. Because he knows, again, he knows the truth, _their_ truth, and he can’t believe he ever forgot.

“I listened to your song,” Louis says, chirpy, into the phone.

“What?” his voice is groggy, but it clears when he realises what Louis said. “What? Shit, did another one leak? Those fuckers, I swear-“

“No, no, I mean the first one. I Won’t Mind. That one.”

There’s silence, and then- “that’s from months ago, Lou.”

“Yeah, well, had to work up to it, didn’t I,” Louis says shortly.

“You- you only listened to it now? You’d never heard it before?”

“That’s what I said,” he huffs.

“But that’s. Shit, Louis, I thought you hated it, I thought you realised, I thought you were mad.”

Louis can’t help the smile, but the fact that his insides form some infinitely heavy black hole of nerves perhaps cancels it out. “So it is about me, is it?”

“What?” Zayn asks. Even over the phone, Louis knows that voice. Like he’s been caught out in something. He remembers the first time he heard it, back in the X Factor house, when Liam made a joke that the reason Zayn didn’t like Hannah all that much was because he was jealous. And god, Louis’ been blind.

“It’s obvious, the lyrics. I could- it was like I was there, like old times, when I’d watch you write. Breaks my heart I didn’t get to see you write that. Must’ve been fucking beautiful.” And Louis just thoughtlessly falls into it, the shamelessly affectionate way of speaking he reserved solely for this boy.

“You did,” Zayn whispers.

“What?” Louis sits up, confused.

“You were- I’d been writing it for a while, I guess. Some of the times- a lot of the times, it was when I was with you.”

“Yeah?” Louis asks, and it blows him away. He imagines all the times where he’d wake up to some shuffling only to see Zayn, night-softened, scribbling away in his battered journal, the cover tipexxed in cruel writing with “louis was here.”  It never occurred to him that some of the words would be for him.

He’s broken out of his memories by Zayn’s hesitant voice. “How do you- why do you say it’s about you?”

“Well, like, I could be wrong. Most of the lyrics, though, it’s- I don’t know anyone else you’d talk about like that.”

“Only most? Not all of 'em?”

“No, Z, not all. It’s the chorus that got me. The whole, “I know you’ll never be mine,” bit. Cuz that couldn’t be about me, that’s bullshit.”

“What?” Zayn’s voice is airy, the way he gets when he can’t work out what he’s supposed to be feeling. Louis loves him so much. And it’s a tidal wave thought, crashing through the lies of the past half a year. Louis fucking _loves_ him.

“Well it wouldn’t work, babe, would it, when I’ve been yours for the past five years.” He says it with a laugh, the way he does when he really means something. Because he does mean it, so much, and not in the urgent ways they'd say shit like that during sex, but in a bigger sense, an all-encompassing sense. Louis was Zayn's in everything he did, everything he ever would do.

“Lou,” Zayn says, an urgent warning tangled with the softness he saves just for Louis. They’re on other sides of the world, and it’s still just for Louis. He’s sure of it.

Then a sharp intake of breath. “Shit,” Zayn whispers, “shit, shit shit.”

“What, whaswrong?”

“Oh Lou. Oh no. you’re drunk aren’t you?”

Louis closes his eyes tightly. For as well as he’s been interpreting Zayn’s answers, he should’ve realised Zayn’s been doing the same for him. “Still true, though.”

Zayn gives a laugh that sounds close to tears. Louis hates himself. He should’ve fucking waited to make the call. “Christ, I almost fucking-“ he fades off, clears his throat. “Tell me that when you’re sober.”

He hangs up. It’s the first time he’s ever hung up on Louis. It’s some weird thing for him, always waiting for the other to ring off first.

~

Louis catches the first flight available to LA, eleven hours of no sleep and no cigarettes and I Won’t Mind on repeat, makes an awkward and overdue call to Caroline for directions to Zayn’s house, because that’s not something he gets to know anymore, hears Brooklyn in the background but doesn’t have the guts to ask after her. Caz seems hesitant to tell him but before she goes she still says- “take care of him, okay?”

“Always,” Louis breathes, and it’s a promise, a promise he’d make to anyone who’ll listen.

~

Zayn takes a good ten minutes to open the door to Louis’ knocks, and if that wasn’t enough to clue him in to the fact that he’d been sleeping, the way he answers it in nothing but a pair of sweats is a dead giveaway.

Louis will not deny the fact that he’s been stalking online blogs for any of the meagre scrappings of pap pictures, despite how much he knows Zayn hates them, and now Zayn’s Instagram, but that couldn’t have prepared him for this. It’s a body he’s so familiar with, has gotten so close to, but it still makes the butterflies in his belly stage a rebellion. And there are new things, too, the tattoos that he wants to examine in minute detail, and the hair, a pale blue, something that he should want to make fun of, but instead he just finds himself wondering if it’s still as soft as it used to be, even after all the dye jobs.

Zayn coughs, and it’s only then that Louis realises how long he’s been staring. “What’re you doing here?”

“Well that’s a bit rude,” Louis jokes half-heartedly, rubbing at his eye that he knows must already be red from lack of sleep self-consciously, knowing that it’ll just make it worse, will only bring attention to his shaking hand. Not that Zayn would ever care. He’d always been both Louis’ most avid fan and loyal defender, especially when it was his own insecurities he needed to be defended from.

“Sorry, Lou, just wasn’t… you know.” He steps aside, leans against the door, looking at Louis like this is something he's been waiting for. And strangely, that wouldn't surprise Louis. “How are you?”

“I’m-“ he takes a deep breath, works himself up to it. “Well I’m not drunk, anymore. But I’m still yours.”

**Author's Note:**

> friendly reminder that I Won't Mind is literally about Louis x


End file.
